Horcrux: Sins of Our Fathers, Book 1: Acceptance
by darkkenchild
Summary: The more things change...  Harry and Hermione face their first year at Hogwarts, and a threat looms before them. However, while many things may seem familiar to the casual reader, the world is a different place. Will things have changed for the better?
1. Prologue:  The Night

Prologue - The Night

The night was cool, with a chilling wind wending aimlessly through the buildings of Over Street. It was late, well past childrens' bedtimes, past the quiet evenings of relaxing adults and past the wild nights of the young. The streetlights illuminated patches of dark and empty streets, creating oases of stubborn light. Far away, echoing through the abandoned streets, a dog barked madly at demons only it could see. Otherwise there was no sound, beyond the sound of the wind blowing past open windows. Through a window, the only window that hung open, a single lonely lamp could be seen. The lamp valiantly penetrated the darkness of the evening, providing valuable kinship to the tired looking woman beside it.

The young woman, Petunia Evans, sat alone in her office, staring out the window at the street below. She caught herself pondering the wisdom of keeping such a late hour, remembering the slowly diminishing sounds of humanity fading into nothingness hours before. She let out a long, drawn out sigh and stared blankly down at the paperwork before her. She was a young woman, barely into the prime years of her life and here she sat, reading thick books about law long past the time that any sane person would be in bed. With a tired expression, she looked up at a framed photograph above her desk. The image made her smile, reminding her fondly of the summers of her youth.

She remembered Hogwarts, the premiere institution of mystic learning in all the United Kingdom. Petunia had hoped all her young life to have the magic required to attend, but her eleventh birthday had come and gone, and her twelfth. She had only just given up hope when the letter arrived, a small parchment envelope lettered in green ink. Her mother refused to let her see it, despite Petunia knowing it was for her, only saddened that it had taken so long to arrive. She had already spent the afternoon packing her things when she went down to eat dinner with her family. She smugly grinned at her sister, Lily, knowing the poor girl would be jealous, as her mother pulled out the envelope and looked around the table.

Hours later, a knocking could be heard through the door to Petunia's room. When she received no response, she slowly opened the door. Ducking a pillow, thrown in rage, Lily walked towards the bed, stumbling across the floor in the darkened room. Petunia remembered sitting up, her face streaked with tears, screaming angry insults at her sister. Freak! Monster! Traitor! Petunia even accused her sister of scheming with the creepy boy next door out of spite. Lily, always the level headed sister, smiled sadly and sat on the bed. She apologized, and even promised to decline the invitation, out of respect for Petunia's dreams. Petunia's rage had evaporated, and was replaced by shame. She demanded Lily attend, it wouldn't be fair otherwise. They argued for what seemed like forever, Lily refusing out of compassion and Petunia insisting out of annoyance. Finally, Lily agreed, but only if Petunia would agree to learn from Lily. Lily would study at Hogwarts, and share the skills that required no personal magic with her sister.

Knowing full well that what they did was illegal, the sisters spent the next six summers together. Lily taught Petunia everything she could about Magical Creatures, History and Potions. She even convinced the Snape child next door to help teach basic defenses against dark wizards. It was during Lily's final year at Hogwarts, while Petunia attended her first year of University, that Petunia finally realized her purpose in life. One of Lily's classmates had a younger brother had been rejected from entry into Hogwarts, because he was unable to use magic. Lily told her sister during the winter holiday, and Petunia immediately empathized with the poor boy, and vowed that no child would be discriminated against simply for not being magical. Upon returning to University, Petunia turned to law with a passion.

Now, here she sits thinking, four years later. She sits staring at the pile of papers and dreading the coming morning, where another terrible day of training would be coming. She glanced once more at the photo above her and she took a deep breath, reminding herself of the encouraging support of her sister. She knew that in less than a year, Ms. Petunia Evans would be entering the legal world as an apprentice, and then she could finally start arguing the case for equal rights under the law, magical or otherwise. With her goal so close, Petunia could not stop now. At least in the long run. For tonight, she couldn't stay awake any longer.

With a sigh, Petunia stood and stretched lazily. With a click, the dim lamp resigned itself to the darkness of night. Slowly and deliberately, Petunia stumbled her way to her bedroom, ready to steal a few hours of sleep from the remaining night. Just as she was about to reach the bed, she heard an angry buzz from across the apartment. Surprised, Petunia could not help but wonder what could possibly drive anyone to visit at such a late hour. Grabbing a robe from the floor of her apartment, she made for the door. Pushing the button beside the door, she pulled open the door and glanced down the hallway. What she saw inspired even greater surprise and confusion.

Coming up the stairs was a man the size of a small mountain and an ancient old man. The pair was strange enough on their own, but Petunia knew these men. They both worked at Hogwarts, and had since her sister had attended. The large one, Hagrid, was the groundskeeper there and was an old friend of her brother-in-law. The old man was easily Petunia's least favorite person. Albus Dumbledore was the stubborn old fool that had denied her entrance into Hogwarts and soundly rejected her pleas to reconsider. His superiority had always infuriated her and she likely would have demanded an explanation for her presence, if not for two things. First, the somber expression that colored both mens' expressions and second, the small package gently cradled in the enormous arms of Hagrid. Her blood froze.

"Miss Evans," Albus calmly met Petunia's gaze. "May we have a word?,"

Keeping her expression neutral, Petunia let the men into her small apartment. As the men walked past her, and into the apartment, she got a closer look at them. Albus carried himself with the quiet arrogance and superiority that she had always known of him. Hagrid, a man she had met only once, looked at her with such pain in his face. He looked ready to cry at any moment, and he looked at her with such pity that it made her dread grow.

"Miss Evans, I am afraid I come bearing bad news," Albus said, his mask of serenity cracking momentarily. "Most terrible news."

Outside the apartment, the sky had barely begun to lighten in the distance. The early morning breeze was cool, but promised a warm autumn day to come. The city was beginning to awaken, and the silence of night began to fade beneath early morning commuters and stubborn birds refusing to leave for winter. The calm serenity of the dawn was harshly interrupted by a terrible wail of pain, issuing out across the street from the last window to go dark.

Petunia had been in shock, listening distractedly as Albus Dumbledore spoke of her sister's family. She listened as he spoke about the monstrous revolutionary, the man who claimed all Britain as his birthright, had come for Lily and her family. She listened as he spoke of James, her brother-in-law, fighting and dying valiantly to defend his wife and child. She listened as he spoke about her sister, desperately defending her baby boy, sacrificed herself to buy his life. She listened as he spoke of the revolutionary, looming over her nephew, ready to strike. There he stopped.

"And then what?" Petunia glared at Albus. "Why have you told me all this? What about my nephew? Why do you drag out his death? To torture me?" She desperately wiped the tears from her eyes.

"No, Miss Evans. I intend no harm. That is where the story ends. No one knows what happened next, only that Voldemort is gone and‚" He paused, and nodded to the weeping giant, who unraveled the cloth wrapped around the parcel. "Your nephew yet lives."

Wrapped in a simple brown cloth was a baby boy. His dark hair in a wild tangle atop his head, and his forehead marred with a wicked gash. The gash did not look normal, it did not bleed and it bore a distinct resemblance to a lightning bolt. Despite the terrible night that the child had no doubt witnessed, he slept soundly, nuzzling closely to the furs coating Hagrid's surprisingly gentle arms. The sobbing giant slowly lifted the child and handed him to Petunia. She gently, as if the child were made of porcelain, accepted the fragile package. Looking up, and between the two men, she took a deep breath, hoping to control her tears.

‚"Get out." Her voice, dripped with pain, desperation and anger. She glared at Albus and glanced at Hagrid.

"Of course, you need time." Albus stood, and placed a comforting hand on Hagrid's shoulder and lead the larger man out the door. "I will contact you in one week's time."

Petunia continued to glare after Albus for ages after the door clicked shut behind him. She held onto her anger at that old fool for as long as she could, but it was like trying to stop the tides with a small bucket. She dropped to her knees, holding the child desperately close to her chest and the dam broke. There she sat, clutching the only remains of her sister, sobbing as the sun began to shine through her windows.


	2. Chapter 1: The Letter

Chapter 1 - The Letter

Harry awoke with a start as he heard a loud banging on his door.

"Wake up. Breakfast is waiting."

The door banged a few more times befoe Harry grumbled loudly at the door and started to roll out of bed. Outside the door, he heard someone walking away. He sat at the edge of the bed for a moment, before grabbing his robe from a nearby chair and shambling to the door.

As Harry walked out into the living room, he barely seemed to notice the apartment at all. Why should he? It looked the same as it did every morning. It was still the same small, well furnished apartment with all the fancy modern decorations and appliances that he saw every day. Granted, the large television in the corner of the room was fairly new, but in his bleary eyed daze, Harry didn't really care.

Instead, he made his way to the kitchen counter, jutting out from the wall and dividing the kitchen from the living room. Climbing onto one of the high stools surrounding the counter, he stared blankly into the kitchen. With a yawn and a lifted eyebrow, he watched his Aunt Petunia flitting about the room at a frenzied pace. She was only half dressed, her shirt only half buttoned and her blazer still hanging on the hook beside the door. Fortunately, she also wasn't wearing any shoes, or she'd probably have tripped and fallen by now, with all her rapid spinning and twisting. Finally, with a small flourish and a satisfied smile, she dropped a plate in front of Harry. It was piled high with eggs, bacon and toast, more then his still sleepy stomach felt ready to deal with. With a smile, Petunia leaned over the counter, so she was about eye level with Harry and looked him directly in the eye.

"Still sleepy?" Petunia smiled warmly and gently ruffled Harry's dark and disheveled hair. "Wake up, kiddo. I want to see you eat at least half of that before I leave." She gestured down at the plate and then back at Harry. He was now smiling tiredly and grabbed his fork, shoveling some of the eggs into his mouth.

"So, have you put any thought into what you want to do for your birthday next week?" She asked him gently, as she watched him eat.

"Hm? Not really," Harry replied. "I was thinking maybe the zoo or something. Ron says he hasn't been to the zoo before. I don't know how he couldn't have, but I thought it sounded fun."

"The zoo could work, if that's what you want, sweetie." Petunia nodded, and reached to grab a notepad from her purse by the door. She idly jotted a note down for herself, and turned back to Harry. "Were you just inviting Ron again this year? Or did you want to bring some of your friends from school?" Harry thought for a long moment before responding. "Maybe just one or two from school, I don't really have a lot of friends there." He smiled weakly, like he was trying to dismiss the fact, which only caused to Petunia to smile sadly.

"Don't worry, Harry. It's not you. They're just nervous about hanging around a celebrity." She smiled and ruffled his hair again, maintaining eye contact until he smiled weakly back at her. She jotted down another note on the pad before glancing at the small golden watch around her wrist, which caused her eyes to widen.

"Oh! I'm going to be late. Sorry, sweetie, but I have to go." She glanced down at Harry's plate. "Promise me that you will finish eating that?" She looked at him expectantly as she finished buttoning up her shirt and tucking it in.

"Fine, I promise." Harry smiled up at her. "When do you think you'll be home today?" He looked almost desperately expectant.

"Well, I have a big case today. One about a man, a muggle, out in the country arguing with some wizard about the right for us normals to own a bonded phoenix." She smiled again and slid her blazer over her shoulders as she leaned over and gave Harry a kiss on the forehead, right next to his lightning shaped scar. "Shouldn't be too late, since the trial begins this morning." She stood up and started for the door. "Remember, that Mrs. Figg is just down the hall if you need anything, and you have my phone number if anything drastic comes up. Be safe and don't get into trouble." She gave Harry one last affectionate smile before the door closed with a click.

About an hour passed before Harry was finally awake enough to get up from the counter, and he wandered back into the bedroom. He stared longingly at his bed, debating whether it was worth going back to sleep, but he decided against it. Instead he walked over to his dresser and stared into the mirror there for a moment, lifting his bangs to reveal the scar on his forehead and he softly touched the spot where his Aunt had kissed him. With a nakedly somber expression, he glanced down at the framed portrait next to his mirror. It showed a young couple affectionately holding a young baby. The couple looked affectionately out from the portrait, happily smiling and waving up at Harry. He especially looked at the young woman, with her bright green eyes watching him with raw joy to see him there. He smiled softly, heartened by the image of his mother.

He pulled out a clean pair of trousers and a t-shirt, throwing them on casually. Though he felt better, he refused to look directly at the picture again before he walked back into the living room.

He glanced around the empty apartment, wondering what to do with the rest of this lazy summer day. He considered calling Ron, but then he remembered that the entire Weasley family would be on vacation in Egypt until the weekend. Harry wished he could go on more summer holidays, but with her job, his Aunt was simply too busy most of the time. She did always remember to take the day off for his birthday, no matter how big a case was scheduled for that day, something Harry always appreciated. He then considered calling a friend from school, but most of them lived across town, and he wasn't very close to them anyways. Instead he walked over to the bookshelf in the living room and grabbed the biggest and most worn leather bound book he could find.

Most of his Aunt's books were boring legal books, in which Harry had no interest. One shelf, though, was dedicated to the old books on magic that she had collected through her life. Petunia had no magic of her own, but she had studied Potion-work when she was younger. Not to mention she had inherited most of Harry's mother's books, at least those that had survived the attack that had claimed the lives of both of his parents. Harry barely remembered anything about his parents, other then stories, but he knew that they had been attacked by Lord Voldemort on the night he was finally stopped. The history books remember the Dark Lord as the man who nearly toppled the British government, and Harry as the boy who had defeated the monster, but Harry barely cared. The whole thing only meant that his peers were nervous about the celebrity in their midst.

Today, though, Harry was going to read through his favorite book. Petunia had owned this book for decades, having recieved it from Lily, Harry's mother and Petunia's sister, shortly after she had graduated from Hogwarts, the greatest wizarding school in all of England. Petunia, having no magic, could not study there, but her sister lovingly taught her everything that required no direct magic and Petunia had excelled in Potions. Thus, when Lily was done with school, she had given Petunia her Advanced Potions books, which still bore many notes and additions from Lily herself. Harry had read through this book in particular more times then he could remember, and he sat down with it in his lap once again. He idly turned on the television, just so the noise would make the apartment seem less empty.

The television droned endlessly in the background for hours, as Harry pored over the book. He glanced up once or twice at the television in thought, barely noticing it was on, instead using as something to look at while he thought about something he had just read. At one point, he found himself sadly thinking that he would never go to Hogwarts himself. He knew it was about this time that the school started sending out letters and he hadn't gotten one yet. He had even begun to doubt that he could do magic, that he had ended up a muggle like his Aunt. It was something he knew would be okay, his Aunt was successful and happy enough, but he always wanted to follow in his parents' footsteps. He was staring somberly at the television when the images themselves started to sink in. A talkshow was about to start, and the grinning visage of Gilderoy Lockhart grinned out from the screen, the announcer gushed about the wizard's newest book and how he would be spending the next hour talking on the program. Harry quickly grabbed the remote and changed the channel in disgust. He flipped channels for a long moment, pausing temporarily on one of the sports networks when he saw them discussing the Quidditch season.

"Huh, the Cannons won last night's match. Ron must be thrilled." Harry grinned for a moment, before changing the channel again, leaving the television on a station discussing the qualifiers for the World Cup, which had just finished a few weeks ago. Harry watched it for a few minutes, before realizing they had nothing new to say, and he turned back to his book. There he sat for another hour, before his growling stomach interrupted his reading again.

With mild annoyance, Harry stood and walked into the kitchen. As he started pulling out pans and plates to make himself something to eat, he heard someone knocking at the door. Glancing at the food he was about to cook, then at the door, he goes and answers it. On the other side of the door is an older woman, who Harry recognized as Mrs. Figg from down the hall.

"Hello, Harry. Are you doing all right?" She asked.

"Yeah, I was just about to make myself something to eat." He shuffled his feet a bit, he always felt a little awkward around Mrs. Figg.

"Oh, do you need any help?"

"No, I'm fine. Just going to fry up a sandwich or something."

"Oh, okay then. I was just coming back from checking the mail and I thought I'd poke my head in and see how you are doing." She smiled awkwardly at him and held out a pile of letters. "And to bring you your mail. That way you don't have to bother yourself." "Um. Thanks, Mrs. Figg."

"No problem, dear. Are you sure you don't need any help?"

"I'm sure, thanks though." "Okay, I'll be right down the hall if you need anything." With that Mrs. Figg smiled and walked down the hallway to her apartment.

Harry shut the door and rolled his eyes. Mrs. Figg bothered him, but she was nice enough, but he was still kind of glad she had gone back to her apartment. This time, without insisting on talking about her cats. He tossed the pile of letters onto the counter and proceeded to fry himself a grilled cheese sandwich. Grabbing a bag of crisps to eat with it, he sat down at the counter and proceeded to eat. As he sat there, he idly shifted through the mail, looking for anything interesting. That's when he spotted it. His sandwich still hanging loosly from his lips, he snatched up a small parchmant envelope he gazed intently at the letter. In bright, emerald ink was printed the words:

Mr. H. Potter-Evans

63 Over Street

Apt #2A

Fulham, London, England

In his surprise, Harry's sandwich fell forgotten onto his plate, and he fumbled to get the letter open as quickly as possible. He took once glimpse at the content and his face split into an ecstatic grin before rushing off to find his Aunt's phone number. He couldn't wait to share the news.


	3. Chapter 2: The Alley

Chapter 2 - The Alley

The rumble of the road composed a soft symphony. The low rumble of the tires as they rolled across the rough asphalt, the whooshing beats of passing vehicles, the sharp screech of tires as drivers adjusted their speeds and the occasional crack as the car passed over bumps on the uneven roads.

Hermione's nose was buried deep in a book, the music of the road providing a quiet counterpoint to the text that held her so enraptured. She thought little of the countryside as it rolled past outside the window, instead concerning herself exclusively with the book's contents. She was lost in magical theory and how it relates to the scientific study of genetics, barely aware of the car, until a particularly jarring bump brought her into rapid awareness of the world around her.

Looking around, blinking profusely, she looked between her parents in the front seat and the streets slowly passing outside the window. Her father's eyes flashed up to meet hers in his rearview mirror, and she could almost hear his smile.

"Back with us, kiddo?" He never looked back, instead keeping his eyes focused on the hectic London streets. He gestured lightly to the seat next to him. "We lost your Mum somewhere back by Wokingham. Suppose we should wake her up soon, we'll be there momentarily."

Hermione grinned in naked delight, she was finally here. There were a few mystically inclined shops around her home, but none could compare to the magical emporium that was Diagon Alley. The first such market to open its doors to muggles had quickly become nationally famous for the sheer variety and quality of the products its merchants offered. She glanced down at the envelope beside her, its green ink shimmered faintly in the sunlight. The supply list already had a few items crossed out, but the local shops simply didn't carry everything she would need at Hogwarts.

Hogwarts. That one word had barely left her thoughts for almost a year now. She had always known that, despite the odds, she would learn to work magic. Her family had no history for such, but she had always known there was more to such things than simple genetics. Force of will, dedication and study were all just as important, if not more important, than an accident of birth. This was the year, she would either be vindicated or humiliated for her years of study and experimentation. Either a letter would arrive and her simple tricks would prove enough talent for professional instruction, or no word would come and she would be relegated to some underfunded government magic program, or worse, correspondence courses.

Not more than a week ago, however, it had arrived. written on simple parchment and penned in green ink, acceptance. One page, clearly for her parents, had explained that her talents had come the school's attention and discussed payment and funding options. Hermione had read through it twice, before relinquishing it to her parents. Another, addressed directly to her and signed by the Assistant Headmistress, commended her for her work and made close enough mention of her experiments that Hermione could only wonder at the scope of talent she would be studying under. The final note, the supply list, was why they had come to London today.

Hermione heard her mother stirring as her father steered their reliable old car into the parking spot, and she knew it was finally happening. The trio climbed out onto the street and made their way to the Leaky Cauldron, entrance to the famous Diagon Alley. Hermione's eyes rose to take in the building as they walked through it. What had once been, according to modern history texts, a derelict old pub made unplottable for the protection of its wizarding patrons, was now a shining beacon of the modern world. The pub had been replaced by a large white marble archway, allowing direct entrance into the market proper. Either side of the arch were all that remained of the old pub, both of which had been replaced by the same elegant stonework of the archway. The right bore a small pub, which proudly served both wizard and muggle alike, no matter their tastes, the Cauldron could provide for your every beverage need. The left side had been replaced with a small restaurant. Boasting cuisine of both mundane and exotic flavors, the Leek catered to shoppers as they came and left.

The Alley itself was enormous, far larger than Hermione had ever imagined. Positively packed with shops, most of them exclusively mystic in focus, the alley seemed far larger than should be possible, which Hermione believed likely. The streets were packed with patrons going about their business; many of these men and women wore robes that marked them as proud magic users, though there were commonly those in street clothes or obvious tourists in flashy clothing. In particular, Hermione noticed a fair number of young girls and boys around her own age. She could only believe that they were here for the same reason she was, to get supplies for the upcoming school year.

Hermione quickly lost interest in the crowds as she noticed a large bookstore across the Alley. She slowly drifted in that direction, only to be grabbed by her bemused mother.

"Eventually Hermione, don't worry. First we need to visit the bank and swap some currency." Her mother smiled and gestured to the large building at the end of the Alley. With a nod, the trio made for the bank. As they reached the bank's steps, Hermione heard a loud woman's voice from the top of the stairs.

"Why these stubborn Goblins and their backwards supporter in this blasted Alley can't modernize is beyond me..." She was followed shortly behind by a young man with unkempt dark hair. "Honestly, Harry. This is the Nineties. We have ATMs and computers all over the place and these luddites still expect us to convert to gold and silver coins to buy school supplies? It's ridiculous."

"Yeah, uh-huh" The boy responded as if he was all too used to the older woman's rants.

The pair shot down the steps and past the Grangers with barely a thought. Hermione couldn't shake the feeling that the pair seemed familiar, but she couldn't immediately place it. In the bustle of the money conversion and Hermione's fascination with the Goblin bank, the pair was quickly forgotten.

A short time later, Hermione clutched a wand firmly in her hand and watched with naked astonishment as the tip shot off bursts of Blue and Gold into the air. Her eyes twinkling with the glow of the pyrotechnics, she only barely noticed the gruff old man nod.

"Vine, 10 and three quarters inches, Dragon Heart string."

The man eyed Hermione's parents long enough for her father to step forward and hand the old man a few gold coins. The old man then turned briskly and began to put away the dozen boxes that he had removed from the shelf in the search for Hermione's wand. All the while he glanced curiously over his shoulder at Hermione's parents, though the young girl could not place what the expression meant, only that it made all of the Grangers uncomfortable and she was glad when the left moments later.

Back on the street, Hermione once again eyed the book store. She had agreed that the bookstore would be the last of their stops, and if she said nothing about it, she would be allowed to choose a handful of books solely for her own amusement, in addition to her schoolbooks. It was difficult to restrain, but she would persevere.

Over an hour later, Hermione's parents carried wrapped parcels under their arms and Hermione wore a newly fitted set of the robes that served as the Hogwarts school uniform. Their shopping was nearly complete, and Hermione practically vibrated with excitement, almost dropping the long, thin box which contained her new wand as she ran ahead of her parents.

Flourish and Blotts. A veritable Mecca for one such as Hermione. It was a bookstore unlike any other. Though the store had always carried the various genres of books that were popular amongst its customers. However in a world where they were forced to compete with the expansive muggle book industry, Flourish and Blotts had been forced to find a niche for itself. Over the previous half century, the store had shifted from the primary source of all wizarding literature and instead shifted its focus to cater primarily to the theoretically inclined. Having never abandoned popular fiction and school books as a source of income, the store instead expanded its collection to incorporate cutting-edge writings of comparative scientific treatises on mystic spell-craft, theoretical tomes which explored the very essences of magic and even the new and nigh-heretical writings of the Bailey family which sought to find reliable methods to incorporate both magic and science in a single device without conflict.

Hermione had begged her parents for decades to visit this very store. She had joined mailing lists for the opportunity to read sample of books that were freely available for sale in this store and no other. F&B's had grown in scope and importance and Hermione had desperately wished to peruse its selection, but her parents had never seen fit to come to the Alley for no reason, so she had to rely on the meager selection her local sources could access.

Now Hermione stood in the entryway and her eyes twinkled like a young child in a candy store. It took all of her will to hold back the squeal of excitement at the sight of the vast shelves shoved full of books. She glanced back at her parents, receiving a nod of approval from her mother before running off to get lost in the books and shelves of the store, knowing her parents would find the books she was required to buy, thus leaving her to her mission of interest and pleasure.

As Hermione wandered the store, her arms slowly filled with thick tomes. Shadows of the Past: An Exploration of the Years of Wizarding Discretion by Dr. Binns. Ride the Lightning!: How to Reconcile Scientific Truths with Magical Realities by Margaret Bailey. Hogwarts: A History, Revised and Updated Edition: 1990 by Professor Garino. These books and more lay on the floor next to Hermione's feet as she perused the Mystical Law section, their weight far too great for her small arms to handle while she simultaneously perused the shelves.

She had only just lifted a book, detailing the recent court cases pertaining to non-magic students in wizarding schools, when she glanced to her right. The woman from earlier, from the steps of Gringotts, stood at the end of the aisle. The young boy was there, clearly bored out his mind, next to the older woman. He was grumbling about someone named Ron and he clearly was ready to leave. Hermione began to look back to her book when finally, the nagging feeling that had bothered her all day, it dawned on her. Hermione's eyes grew wide and her mouth fell open slightly as she stared at the older woman.

"Ms. Evans?"

The woman looked up and around, before looking down at the young girl further down the aisle.

"Oh, my god. You're Petunia Evans!" Hermione blinked repeatedly, as if expecting to awake from a dream any moment.

"Uhm, yes. I am." The woman, Petunia, smiled warmly, if a bit awkwardly. She was not used to being recognized in bookstores, even if she was a minor public figure.

"I'm such a fan of your work!" Hermione held up the book she had in her hands. "I've kept up with your career for most of my life. It's such a great thing you're doing!" Her fingers trembled slightly, though she tried to hide it from Ms. Evans. "You've inspired me for years!"

"Why thank you, dear." Petunia smiled, much more warmly than before. "I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage. You know me, but I'm afraid I do not know you..."

"Uh. I'm... My name is Hermione Granger, ma'am." Hermione seemed unsure how to handle the situation and awkwardly bowed her head to the older woman.

"Oh! No, none of the ma'am stuff. Makes me feel old." Petunia glanced down, between Hermione and the young man beside her. "And this grumpy young man here is my nephew Harry." She nudged Harry slightly, which elicited a gruff "Hey" from the young man.

"Harry Potter, Boy-who-lived." Hermione nodded and recited the boy's name and reputation with as much energy as one would recite lines from a textbook, before returning her excited attention to Ms. Evans. "I was wondering, Ms. Evans, what do you think will happen if the bill passes though parliament next week? The one that seeks to protect the rights of private institutions to restrict their admissions based on whatever criteria they choose?"

Petunia's eyebrows rose quickly, clearly surprised at the young girl's grasp of such matters. "Uhm, well, first of all, despite the support that the measure has amongst certain special interests, I doubt that any member of the government would commit political to outright support it. Thus, I doubt anything will come of it. If, however, it does pass it will only put a simple speed-bump in the process of trying to open institutions such as Hogwarts and its like to non-wizarding peoples." Petunia cleared her throat in embarrassment, realizing that she had likely lost Hermione in her overly formal response, but to her surprise the girl simply nodded.

"I thought so. It seemed too harsh to pass. No one would be so openly mean if they can help it." Hermione nodded, smiling. "Hopefully the Hogwarts staff won't be upset when it falls apart. I don't want my first year ruined."

"Oh? You're going to Hogwarts this year? So is my nephew!"

It was at this time that Hermione's father rounded the corner. He noticed his daughter was talking to an older woman and he walked briskly up to the pair.  
>"I'm sorry, miss. I hope my daughter wasn't bothering you..." He glanced between Hermione and Petunia as he spoke.<p>

"Oh, of course not! She's a bright young girl and she wasn't bothering me in the slightest." Petunia smiled brightly down at Hermione.

"I'm glad, though it is getting late, and if a certain young woman is going to make it home before dark, we best be going." With an openly proud grin, Mr. Granger scooped up his daughter's books and began to lead her away. Hermione glanced up at her father for a long moment before dashing around him and back to Petunia. Sheepishly, she handed the book she had been considering to the older woman. "Can... Can I have your autograph?"

"Oh! I.." Petunia glanced at the girl's father, who only rolled his eyes and nodded. "I suppose, so..." Petunia dug though her purse for a moment, producing a pen and wrote a short note on the inside cover of the book before signing it at the bottom. Hermione then ran off after her father to buy her books and head home, practically glowing the whole time.

Hours later, an old and reliable car pulled up to a modest and attractive home. Mr. Granger glanced at the backseat after he parked the car. He nodded to his wife, who gathered some of the parcels from the trunk and began to carry them into the house. Mr. Granger walked around and opened the backseat door and carefully picked his daughter up from where she had fallen asleep. After he had carried her upstairs to her bed, he returned to the car to retrieve the last of the parcels. He carefully picked up the book that Hermione had fallen asleep reading. Mundane Injustices in a Magical World by Ms. Petunia Evans. He opened the front cover, noticing this as the book his daughter had asked the woman to sign, and he could only smile at what the woman had written for his daughter. After reading it, he set it atop the pile of materials and carried it inside. With a smile, he carried the book upstairs and left it open to the inscription on his daughter's bedside table.

"Never Give Up on Your Dreams! -Petunia Evans"


	4. Chapter 3: The Train

Chapter 3 - The Train

Steam rolled heavily through the station, the cool air gave little resistance to cloud as it attempted to surround and obscure the entire station. A faint breeze wandered through, dispersing the steam, beating back the oppressive fog and clearing the path for the young students making their way towards platform nine and three quarters.

The platform was clearly and cleanly marked by the gilded numbers over a solid brick wall. The bricks were decorated with matching gilded bars, creating a perfect door-shaped outline through brick. Hanging from the top of this seeming doorway was a small sign which simply read, "Take care when entering."  
>Harry stood on the platform, clearly unimpressed with the crowd that wandered through King's Cross. There was nothing particularly special about today, beyond the numerous children preparing to leave for the upcoming school year. Harry was no different as he waited patiently for his Aunt to return with the trolley containing the rest of his things. He watched as numerous families arrived at the station and made their way toward the gilded doorway, amused at the ease at which he could identify the youngest and least worldly amongst the students by their levels of amazement at the enchanted wall.<p>

"Ready?" Petunia's voice broke Harry from his reverie. He turned and nodded to her before making his way to the platform. It had been slightly more than two weeks since his trip to Diagon Alley and meeting with that obnoxious girl. He had little doubt that he would be seeing her on the train, but he could only hope that she would keep to herself. Especially if his aunt wasn't around for her to gush over.

Once Harry passed through the doorway, another wave of steam washed over him, momentarily obscuring the impossibly large platform. He glanced around, noticing the platform was nearly the same size as the station itself, though this only caused him to nod in respect. Clearly a fair number of charms and enchantments had been cast upon the station. Beyond the otherwise impossible size, the temperature was a comfortable medium, the platform was well lit despite no obvious source and the marble and carved stone ornamentation all screamed of expert mystic workmanship. Harry was impressed, clearly Hogwarts wanted its students to be immediately aware of the skill and wealth of its institution, and they had succeeded.

Harry looked around the platform a second time, though this time he wasn't interested in his surroundings, instead, he sought someone in particular. There! A bright shock of red heads in a sea of brown, black and blonde. The Weasleys had beaten him here, just as Ron had said. Glancing over his shoulder to be sure his Aunt was following him, Harry began to make his way through the crowds towards his friends.

Harry had only made his way about halfway across the platform before it started. The low murmur and chatter, the pointing of fingers, the double-takes. The crowd was starting to notice the scar under his short, but messy hair. He rolled his eyes and kept moving forward, hoping that it wouldn't get out of hand again. Finally, after charging through an ever thickening crowd as it grew bolder and started asking questions and calling for Harry's attention, he finally reached the Weasleys. "Ron!"

The young man with shockingly bright red hair turned and grinned at Harry. He was somewhat lanky, and a tad bit taller than Harry and he had already changed into his uniform robes. Between that fact and the sarcastic flourish, Harry knew that his friend was showing off his brand new robes. They were of fine quality, something Harry knew was as much a sign of the Weasley families success as it was the need for new clothes.

"Hey, Harry." Ron grinned broadly. "Check out the new robes! Dad just got another bonus for his work with the Muggle Prime Minister." He then glanced around, noticing that the growing crowd and frowned. "Still having problems with being a celebrity?"

Petunia had finally managed to fight through the crowd in her nephew's wake and took a deep breath, smiling broadly at Mrs. Weasley. "Good morning, Molly!" She glanced around for a moment before cocking her head to one side and asking. "No Arthur, today?"

The other woman, a healthy middle-aged woman, Molly Weasley, smiled. "Not today I'm afraid, Petunia. He had a hearing today that he couldn't get out of... Something about the sale of minor magical plants in muggle greenhouses. They keep him far too busy these days." She elbowed the younger woman playfully. "Honestly, I'm a little surprised to see you here. I told you that I could take Harry for you."

"I know, I know." Petunia rolled her eyes. "I requested this day off months ago, even before Harry got his letter. I didn't want to miss this for the world. Even if it means some long nights at the office with Arthur and reams of paperwork. Give him my regards, by the way. And tell him that I'll see him in my office tomorrow to go over the case for that poor man's phoenix. Weeks of litigation and no progress, maybe if he can get the Ministry of Magic to relax a bit in their onslaught we could make some progress..." She glanced at her nephew, a flash of worry as the crowd began to close around Ron and Harry. "Should we do something?"

Molly glanced at the crowd and let out a slight chuckle. "I don't think so..." She grinned as her own red-headed son stepped forward and began to tell off the crowd. Telling them to leave Harry alone, that he's just another kid off to Hogwarts and that they can bother him at school where they wouldn't gang up on the poor guy. "Ron's got plenty of practice keeping the curious off his best friend." She grinned proudly. "He'll make sure that Harry doesn't get overwhelmed. Hopefully they'll keep each other from letting this all go to their heads too..." The two women shared a grin.

"I suppose so, Molly. They've always looked out for each other, why would that change now?" The crowd began to disperse, leaving only a few stragglers who stared with naked curiosity.

After a few minutes a sharp whistle blew across the platform and parents began to usher their children onto the train. Petunia helped Harry lift his luggage onto the train, then she looked into his eyes with a proud expression. "Take care, Harry. Don't forget to write every week, even if it's just a quick note about your studies. Otherwise, I'll worry." She smiled and ruffled his hair and he acted playfully annoyed at their old ritual. "If I don't hear from you, I'll send you a Howler every day until I do..." She grinned mischievously at the look of horror on his face. "Now go. Enjoy your school year and I'll see you around the Holidays. And don't forget, I love you, kiddo."  
>Harry blushed with embarrassment and jumped up to hug Petunia, muttering "I love you, too" in her ear so no one else would hear him. Then, he jumped onto the train and waved at his aunt as the train began to pull away from the station. Petunia waved back, never looking away or moving until Harry was out of sight.<p>

Harry, with Ron following shortly behind, wandered the hallways of the train, looking for an open compartment, or at least one with amiable company. He passed by compartments fill with whining first years, clearly worried about being away from home. He passed by older students, who looked at him with disdain at presuming to consider sitting with him. He especially hustled past the compartments where the students recognized him, desperately clamoring for him to join them. He passed by them all with mixture of disinterest and disdain.

Finally, about halfway back from the front of the train, Harry found a room with a sole occupant. He glanced around, and seeing no sign of other students or their things, he glanced at Ron and gestured at the door. Ron smiled and pulled the door open, revealing the young blonde boy dressed in the finest of robes, the boy looked up and cocked an eyebrow.

"Can I help you Potter?" He glanced sideways at Ron, giving the barest of nods in recognition before turning his gaze back to Harry.

"Oh, come off it, 'Malfoy.'" Harry rolled his eyes. "Anyone sitting with you?"

"No." The reply was curt and polite, but abrupt.

"What? No goon squad today?" Ron quipped, immediately followed by a faint "Oof.." as Harry elbowed him in the ribs.

Draco smirked at Ron's discomfort before looking back to Harry. "Crabbe and Goyle are in the next compartment. I sent them there, because I find it more interesting to sit and talk with myself than those imbeciles. If not for their father's connection with my family, I wouldn't even give those buffoons the time of day." He sighed. "However, if you wish to join me, I would not argue."  
>"Thanks, Draco." Harry walked into the compartment and dropped heavily onto the seat across from the blonde. He nodded off-handedly to Ron, who sat softly next to Harry.<p>

The trio sat in relative silence for a few minutes, unsure where to go next. Before, finally, Draco broke the silence with a snort.

"So, Potter, is your mother still stirring up trouble in the Ministry?"

Harry smirked at Draco's intentionally tactless comment. "Is your father still being a brutishly stubborn ass?"

Draco shot a sideways grin at Ron. "At least my father isn't a muggle apologist. At least 'Ms. Petunia Evans' stands up on her own, not needing a Weasley to argue her cases for her."

Ron turned slightly red at the comment, before letting out a derisive laugh. "There'd be no need for my dad's job if your dad didn't keep making wild public statements."

The three sat glaring at each other for a long moment, before smiling and laughing together. The tension in the room melted away, to be replaced with respectful camaraderie. "It's been too long, Malfoy. Your dad to busy to bring you into London, anymore?" Harry grinned broadly with a wink.

"No. More an issue of him wanting me to get a head start on my education. He's spent tons of money and time hiring me the best magic tutors in Britain, so I would be top of my class at Hogwarts. Not that he had a reason to worry." Draco practically preened at his own compliment.

"Whatever..." Ron rolled his eyes and muttered, but said no more.

"Fair enough, I suppose..." Harry nodded and the trio lapsed into silence for a long few minutes, the years that had passed since the three had met in the Ministry-sanctioned daycares providing enough of a gulf to make awkwardness unavoidable. Eventually, the conversation revived and the hours passed slowly as the three discussed their parents, their schooling thus far and many other things.

The three had ascended to boasting about their magical prowess, their mystic lineage, their prominence in Britain and more. Draco constantly reminding the other two that he was the son of the most influential old-blood magical family in Britain, but both Ron and Harry could boast equally old descent and more modern appeal to counter the arrogant blonde's statements. Their boasting did not even pause as the concession cart wound its way past their door, as the boys each emptied their pocket change to buy each other expensive sweets.

Hours later, with full bellies and wild theories about the upcoming sorting, the trio were ready for the trip to be over. Fortunately, they knew that the Hogsmeade station was growing nearer by the second. The compartment had once again lapsed into silence when there came a knock on the door. Ron glanced between his companions before leaping to his feet and pulling the door open a crack.

"Yeah?"

A brush haired girl stood across the threshold and attempted to look around Ron's body as it blocked her view. With a huff, she looked Ron in the eye with annoyance.

"Have you or your friends seen a toad? Neville, here," She gestured behind her at a pudgy young man who looked both tired and panicked simultaneously. "He lost his toad. What was the name again?" She glanced at Neville for a moment.

"Trevor."  
>"Yes, Trevor. He was walking through this car when he lost it. Have you seen it?"<p>

Ron glanced back at Harry and Draco before turning back to the girl. He shook his head. "Nope, no frog." He started to pull the door closed, but the girl pushed her foot in the way.

"You didn't even look or ask anyone..." She glared at Ron and pushed him bodily aside. She looked between the other two boys and Harry couldn't help but grimace.

Harry finally recognized the girl and her harsh little voice: This was the girl from the Alley. The one who had dismissed him for his aunt. He was used to sharing the spotlight with his famous aunt, and he had no problems, but she had dismissed him so utterly... He was annoyed then and he was still annoyed. He glared harshly at the girl, "Look. We don't have his frog. Even if we did, you're being so rude about asking, I wouldn't give it to you."

Hermione looked at Harry, recognition dawning in her eyes, as well. She rolled her eyes, looked between Harry and Draco, then back to Neville. The latter of the three remained in the hall, clearly too worried to enter. She sighed in mild annoyance and looked back at Harry. "Fine. If you want to be a brat about it, I won't stop you." She moved to leave before hesitating and speaking to Harry over her shoulder. "You might do well to remember who you really are, rather than who you think you are... Otherwise, I doubt you'll do very well at Hogwarts." Then she was gone, Ron shutting the door behind him.

Draco grinned and started to say something, but fortunately for Harry the whistle blew, signifying the train had finally arrived. Hogsmeade was right outside and Draco's comment was lost in the bustle of gathering their luggage and preparing to depart.


	5. Chapter 4: The Arrival

Chapter 4 - The Arrival

Hermione stormed down the train car's hallway, her eyes glazed over from annoyance and rage. The nerve of those boys! How could they so casually dismiss a fellow student's problems? How could they be so rude and crass about a simple request for help? She had nearly reached the end of the car when a sharp whistle interrupted her thoughts. It was only then that she realized two things. First, the train was beginning it's entrance to Hogsmeade and it would only be a matter of minutes before the car was flooded with disembarking students. Second, she had been so caught up in her anger that she was ignoring her companion.

Neville had followed behind Hermione as she stormed away from the other boys. He clearly knew something was going on, though he couldn't figure out what he wasn't seeing. He had begun to hang his head, depressed. Hermione seemed to be done with their search, which meant that Trevor was unlikely to be found. When the train's whistle rang out, he saw the girl stop and turn. She looked him dead in the eye and smiled. "Sorry, Neville. I guess I was carried away in the moment... We have to hurry, though. We're almost to Hogsmeade."

Hermione picked the nearest compartment door and knocked sharply against it's wooden exterior. "Excuse me, don't mean to be a bother but have you seen a..." She heard a loud crash and a series of bangs from within the compartment. It sounded akin to a pair of wild beasts rampaging within behind the door. With a bang and a crash, the door flew open and a pair of heavy looking boys tumbled into the hall, duffel bags falling around and atop them. An older student remained in the compartment, looking desperately for a hand hold as he tumbled onto the seats. With a leap and a flip a large toad flew off the older boy's head and landed atop the larger of the two boys collapsed in the hall. "...toad." Hermione blinked, then giggled lightly, before remembering what she had just seen. "Are you all alright?"

Neville stepped forward when he saw Hermione nod at the toad. He smiled and picked up the creature. "Trevor! We found you!" He softly hugged the creature, who passively croaked, barely noticing the child's presence. Meanwhile, the two boys on the floor picked themselves up off the floor and glowered at Hermione and Neville. The said nothing, letting their stupidly menacing glares speak for them as they picked up their things from the floor. Hermione, rose an eyebrow incredulously at the pair, wondering if the pair had any idea how unconvincingly their nonchalance was. She allowed herself a brief snicker as the boys stepped back into their compartment and slammed the door shut.

The train's whistle rang out again, and Hermione could feel the train's movement begin to slow beneath her. "It looks like we're finally pulling into Hogsmeade, Neville. We'd better get back to our compartments and get our things." She smiled and offered her hand to the boy and gently led him back through the halls, leaving him behind when they reached his compartment with a reminder to "keep Trevor caged up, at least until you get to your dorm room." This casual comment made Neville's face darken, to which she could only grin. "Don't worry, Neville. You can't fail the sorting, you'll get a house and a dorm, no problem. I'll see you on the platform!" With that, she returned to her own compartment, nodding casually at the young, dark haired first year she shared it with while she started to gather her things.

About 20 minutes later, Hermione stood on the concrete platform on the edge of Hogsmeade village. She constantly glanced behind her, trying to catch a glimpse of the small town through the gaps between the train cars. If she thought she could get away with it, she would have barely hesitated to dash away into the streets here, as the only purely magical village in England, Hogsmeade and its shops had intrigued Hermione since she first found mention of it in her books. However, now was not the time, that could come later: A few years, unless she found a way to sneak off school grounds before she reached the year for sanctioned trips. She finally turned back to face the rest of the crowd when she heard a loud bellowing.

"Firs' Years! Firs' Years! Could I have all firs' year students o'er here?" A giant, mountain of a man was wading through the crowd. His shaggy beard almost completely covered his face, making it seem as if his voice echoed out from the hair itself. He reached into his enormous coat and pulled out a brightly shining silver whistle, blowing it sharply. The whistle's cold and clear tone echoed through the station and conversations died in its wake. "I need all the Firs' Years to follow me! Leave yer things, they'll find you at the castle! Come with me!"

Hermione shrugged, grabbing a small satchel from atop her pile of trunks and bags. She never went anywhere without a few books, though she was unsure if she would need them now. She tucked the bag under her robed arms and joined the crowd of young students falling into line behind the large man. She glanced back, noticing the other students filing in the opposite direction, heading for a series of coaches lined up at the other end of the station. She shrugged and followed.

"You firs' years are in fer a treat. Hogwarts likes ta start yer first years with a bang. The others have ta ride closed carriages, but you... You kids is the lucky ones." The large man grinned broadly, leading the children down a path, away from the station and towards a large river. "We'll be takin boats ta Hogwarts, so's you can see the whole school before enterin' it." He finished with a flourish towards dozens of boats along the shore. "Only two ta a boat, please. Safer tha' way." He smiled and gestured for students to enter the boats.

Hermione looked around curiously at her fellow first years. She saw Harry Potter and his cronie Ron climb into a boat, to the protests of the blonde boy from their compartment, who gestured at the brutes from the hallway and Ron. Finally, he growled in annoyance and pointed at one of the brutes and climbed into a boat, leaving the other boy to climb into one alone. Hermione spotted Neville, who waved her over as he sat down in a boat. She shrugged and walked over to join him. Noticing her compartment-mate climbing into another boat with a blonde girl with pig-tales. Neville was grinning with excitement while they waited for a few stragglers to find a boat and for the large man climb into the biggest boat alone. With a flourish and a wave of a pink umbrella, the boats pulled away from the shore of their own accord.

The boats drifted slowly and determined up the river, against the current but barely seeming to respond. Hermione held a book open in her lap, though she could barely focus as the boats drifted through an increasingly thick forest. She could only imagine that this was the fabled Forbidden Forest of Hogwarts, impossibly large and ever changing, to thwart trespassers. Hogwarts was one of the few unplottable locations in Great Britain and this forest was a large part of how it remained so. She could swear she caught glimpses of creatures running through the darkened trees. Neville seemed caught between bald-faced awe and fear at the darkened trees. Hermione gave him a reassuring wink and pointed ahead at a small flock of glowing wisps floated over the boats.

After wending through the trees for seemingly ages, having lost all sense of direction and finally closing her book for now, Hermione saw the river widening and the trees thinning. Suddenly, seemingly without warning, the boats burst through the treeline into an enormous lake, a large castle looming in the distance. This was it. This was the school that Hermione had spent so much time studying, both for and about, it was not only real, but it was here before her. Her eyes were wide with awe, the pictures did the school grounds no justice, no sense of scope. She heard gasps of surprise and awe from all around her, though she doubted any others yet felt like they were coming home, as she did.

Finally, slowly, the boats drifted up towards the docks alongside the castle. The large man leapt from the boat and landed on the docks with a loud bang. He then proceeded to help the students out of their boats. Hermione waited patiently until her boat was ready to be disembarked, watching the man carefully. She noticed he lingered over Harry's boat longer than the others, if not for the familiar wink, she would have passed it off as more fanatical hero-worship. Instead, she couldn't help but wonder how the two knew each other, if they did. Perhaps the large man was simply interested. Something to puzzle out later, as the large man finally got to their boat. Hermione stood and helped Neville get out of the boat, watching as he stumbled awkwardly onto the dock, before she accepted the large man's reassuring hand as she pulled herself out of the boat as well. She then walked with Neville down the dock and onto the stone embankment with the other students where an older woman stood severely trying to keep order amongst the milling students. Finally when the last student had stepped off the dock, and the large man gave the severe woman a nod, the woman raised her voice sharply.

"First years! I am Professor McGonagall, the Deputy Headmistress of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Though the formal welcoming ceremony will begin shortly, I would like to personally welcome you to the beginning of the rest of your lives. At this school, you will learn more in your seven years here than you could learn in a hundred years of public education, and you will all be made better for it. As many of you know, we rely on a four-house system to maintain order in this school, and the process of sorting you into these houses will begin shortly, as the opening ceremony of the welcoming. If you will follow me, we have a room prepared for you while we wait."

Hermione could only roll her eyes at the decorum with which the woman, McGonagall, put into the situation, but she couldn't deny that she was excited. When the woman turned and began to walk up the stone steps toward the castle, Hermione couldn't refrain from sharing her excited grin with the pensive smile of Neville beside her, and following the crowd into the darkened archways of this magnificent school.


End file.
